


Just Focus

by Mrs_Strife



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-03 10:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Strife/pseuds/Mrs_Strife
Summary: Amarhi Raines is a young girl with a strange affinity for magic who happens to be in New Bodhum when the Pulse fal'Cie is discovered on Cocoon. With no way of contacting her remaining family, she's placed on the same Purge train as Lightning Farron and Sazh Katzroy, soon to be swept up in the tides of their quest to defeat the fal'Cie.Now a l'Cie, she struggles to find the path to completing her focus. Along the way to saving themselves and Cocoon, she discovers she has a lot to learn, both from the others that carry the same burden and from the past.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea stocked in the back of my notes for a while now, and since I'll be finishing up my FF12 story in just a few days, I figured I might as well get started on this bad boy.  
> Last time I tried to write a FF13 story, it didn't go so great (2014 was the golden year of bad fanfic, I swear), so hopefully, 4 years has given me enough time to learn how to not fail at writing. We shall see.  
> Also, this is the youngest character I've ever written, so this should be interesting, to say the least.  
> With all that word vomit said, I'll shut up and you can judge this puppy for yourself ;)

Twisted tendrils of glittering blue light stretch toward the endless mass of stars that separate land from sky. Towering creatures turn their tired eyes to the dancing ribbons as they extend from all directions across Gran Pulse and twist together quickly, forming a pillar of light that casts a brilliant glow across the wild grasslands. Slowly, the tendrils bunch together, rippling and turning as they build up a form of life that's been missing from the world below for far too many years.

The excess energy of the many fal'Cie pours into the creation of this new being, a collaboration of powers that morphs into the figure of a human infant, a rather delicate creature. With a final shower of brilliant sparks, the beam of light shoots up into the sky before vanishing altogether and taking the child with it.

On the doorstep of an unsuspecting, perfectly content family lies a baby bundled in gray cloth. She looks no younger than a few months old, but she stares at her hands in startled awe as if she's never seen them before. In fact, everything from the lamp above the front door to the pebbles beside her face brings marveling wonder to her pale eyes. For the first time, she sees. Fortunately, it's not a cold night. Unfortunately, the infant has yet to eat for the first time.

It's the angry wails that bring Amita Raines to the door. It's the startled scream that brings her husband, Patrus. It's the immediate adoration in their children's eyes that lead them to keep the girl and raise her as their own for the fourteen years that they have left.

~New Bodhum, Day 11~

"Would you look at  _that_!" my father cries, pointing toward the translucent bubble that shields us from the spray of the fireworks that burst over the sea. My mother squeals in delight, clapping her hands together excitedly with the rest of the gathering crowd.

"Beautiful!" She rests a hand on my shoulder, smiling down at me with happiness written clear across her face. Her eyes are bright for the first time in years. "Isn't it, dear?"

"It's something," I nod, turning back toward the firework show. Glittering sprays of blue and orange litter the night sky, dancing with the twinkling stars. Tonight's a seasonal celebration that takes place out here in Bodhum every year. Once, my parents took my brother, once they went by themselves, they took my sister twice, and now they're taking  _me_  in their biggest efforts to lift my long-fallen spirits. I've never been one for parties.

I look around at the bright, smiling faces, each flashing with the dazzling colors of the fireworks. Couples, children, bartenders... Each has their own way of enjoying the show. A father and his son fight playfully. A woman stares out at the ocean with silent prayers passing her lips as whispers. A group of young friends laughs, shoving each other playfully.

The sand underneath my shoes shifts and I look up at my parents once more. A pair of devoted lovers pressed together by the promise of a picture-perfect family. From what they tell me, my unexpected arrival was less than unwelcome in the midst of their longing for a third child. Even now, after everything that's happened... After how they've  _hurt_ me... Sighing, I glance once more at the night sky before turning away. I know I'm still grateful. I'm just... lonely.

"Amarhi, where are you going?" Amita asks, her voice overflowing with motherly concern; I shrug, continuing on my way back to the room we rented at the nearby bar. We can't afford much now that my brother's moved out, so this beachside trip really  _is_  a treat. I just can't take the forced smiles anymore. Not while he's gone, maybe even for good this time. 

Just like Cassie.

I push past the people drinking in the tiki bar and open the slatted wooden door to our room. Kicking off my black boots, I fall into my bed and roll up in the rough, scratchy covers. Through the open window, I can hear cheers from the crowd and the explosions of the fireworks. Colored light flickers on the wall across from me. Huffing, I pull the covers over my head. Outside, guards mutter amongst themselves. I catch mentions of Pulse and the Sanctum before drifting off into restless sleep. My dreams are filled with goodbyes and sad blue eyes.  _Why did you go?_

I jolt as a sudden crash snaps me out of my restless sleep. In the darkness of the room, beams of light flash about, blinding me. I raise an arm to shield my face, squinting, and sit upright. Muffled shouting and heavy footsteps echo through my foggy head. Suddenly, I get it. This is the Sanctum. My mother screams and clings to my father, who stares wide-eyed at the soldiers that have filled our room and pointed their weapons at our heads.

"Get up!" one of them commands. "Slowly. Keep your hands where we can see them."

"What's going on?" my father demands, quickly obeying.

"No questions, sir."

"You can't take us without telling us  _why!"_ I protest, the wood floor beneath my feet creaking as I stand, hands held up by my head.

"Shut it!" another soldier snaps, shuffling closer and waving his weapon about in my face. "To the door,  _now._ "

"Why?!"

"I'd keep my mouth shut, young lady," the first man, the apparent leader, shouts, gesturing to my mother with his gun. His helmeted head turns up to face his comrades. "You two, keep her here. The rest of us will take care of these ones."

"What are you doing?!" I demand, trying to force my way past the soldier block my path as my parents are led out of the room. He presses his palm to my chest, shoving me back.

"Hey! Captain, what do we do about this one? She'll cause problems on the train." Their captain chuckles, shaking his head and leveling his gun with my mother's temple and cocking his head to the side as she whimpers, clutching her trembling hands together.

"No, I don't think she will."

"Hey, get your hands off my wife!"

One, two, three pops.

" _I said-!"_


	2. The Purge

The train rattles along it suspended tracks, each thrum rumbling through my body like the growl of a feral dog. The massive, loose cloth of my Purge robes covers every inch of my skin, likely so the PSICOM agents on board don’t have to see our faces as they send us off to our graves.  _Pulse…_ It’s a death sentence. To clear Cocoon of all Pulse influence, the government decided to ship everyone that was in and around Bodhum away. Something about  _cleaning the populace._ I don’t buy it.

Speed picks up as we continue around a corner, the train car dim and lit only with the dull blue glow emitting from specific portions of our robes. Pulse… Would I survive? Would all that “wasted time” training with my brother even come into effect before I was ripped to pieces? Pulse has always been painted as a vicious land of vicious beasts and vicious people for as long as I’ve been alive.

I’m broken from my thoughts as the train rocks to the side, shaking violently. There’s a loud shatter from the front of the train and I clutch my hands together, lifting my head to search the room. The other passengers look just as anxious. The door to the car slides open and a PSICOM guard leaves in a rush. Taking a deep breath, I try to pull against the restraints pinning me to my seat. Nothing gives. Suddenly, a sharp zap shocks the belt on my stomach, releases the magnetic hold on my sleeves, and the restraints fly free. The others in the car cheer, scrambling to their feet.

Before I can follow suit, the train slams to a stop. Gritting my teeth, I hang onto the seats tightly as my shoulder slams into the train wall. I can feel that we’re airborne, tumbling, falling, crashing, but I can’t do anything about it. Dazed, I let go once the train finally skids to a stop and stumble across the smooth floor. Someone lays on the ground to my right; I immediately turn away from the puddle of dark blood that flows around them. Pushing through the crowd of strangers, I peer out of the torn side of the train.

The city above is distinctly emerald in color, filled with tangled railways and dim lights. It’s a military base of sorts, it seems.  _But why would we be ** **here****? More security? _Gunfire erupts outside and several roads collapse altogether in a series of fiery explosions. My heart pounds in my chest and my hands tremble as I clutch the side of the train.  _A resistance…_

“C’mon, get out!” a gruff voice calls. A tall, bulky man stands in an open doorway, holding a gun his shoulder. His bright orange hair is the first detail to catch my attention. His enormous muscles are the second. “We’re holding down the fort out there!”

With mixed murmurs and fearful gazes, people dressed for the Purge filter out of the demolished train one by one. Outside, some even shed their robes. I stay enveloped in mine, nodding my thanks to the big man when he takes my hand and helps me down. There are some perks to being short; an extra hand may just be one of them. Uneasy, I peer over the edge of the road we stand on, watching people down below fire guns and tumble to their deaths. It’s nice to be saved from Pulse, but this fight already holds far too many casualties. A voice blasts out over the chaos through an intercom system.

“On behalf of Cocoon’s citizens, I would like to thank our brave Pulse pioneers and express our best wishes for a successful relocation. Your noble and selfless sacrifice ensures the continued safety and peace of our society. Were it not for this remarkable gesture, every resident of Cocoon, your family, your friends, your neighbors… would be exposed to the dangers of the world below. By choosing to leave Cocoon and participating in this migration—”

A tall man in a tawny trench coat stops the sickening broadcast with a single stomp of his boot. He and a blue-haired boy converse as I turn back to scan over the wary crowd. Countless aircraft soar overhead, ready to rain destruction on our heads if the need should come. The man heads toward where I stand with the rest of this anxious crowd, a cluster of disciples in tow.

I turn back to the destruction erupting before me. Why are they  _murdering_ the very people they were intent of sending away “for the sake of Cocoon?” It doesn’t add up. I shake my head, toying with the baggy sleeves on my arms. The crowd begins to gather in a cluster as the man and his party arrive, wielding guns and carrying plenty of extras.  _These ruffians want civilians involved too?_ I stand in the back line of the others, arms crossed tightly over my chest. The man in the trench coat, towering high above the rest, scans over us with incredibly pale blue eyes, tucking a strand of blonde hair back under his tight black cap.

“You all okay?” he asks, his voice gentle. A boy about my age stumbles behind him, a pile of loaded guns skittering across the pavement; I wince. “Hey, careful with those,” the man grits, though his smile is playful, as if he’s looking down at a younger brother. My stomach twists. He turns to us once more.

“Don’t worry, no one’s moving to Pulse today. We’ll clear you a path outta here, so be ready to—”

“Wait!” A bearded man protests, leaping to his feet. “Let me fight with you!”

“Yeah, you can’t expect us to just sit here!” another shouts. The man in the trench coat turns to the orange-haired giant who helped us off the train.

“Could help.”

“Yep.”

“Please,” the bearded man begs, stepping closer. “Let us help.” Another explosion sets off in the distance and the people around me grow uneasy.

“Okay then,” Trench Coat gives in. “Volunteers front and center.”

Men and women alike flood toward the man, taking up guns cautiously and waiting for his direction. Even a mother, tearing herself away from her robed son, takes up arms, nodding her affirmation to the leader when he questions her decision. The orange-haired man hands the last gun to Trench Coat, who takes it and comes closer to us.

“Alright, last one. Somebody take it.” He lowers it to a boy seated on the ground, who scoots away immediately, panicked. It’s the same boy whose mother volunteered to fight.

“N-no… I can’t.”

“Here!” a girl cries, throwing her arms open wide and kneeling before the blonde. Sighing, he hands it over, the girl looking over the weapon with a smile on her face.

“Push comes to shove, keep ‘em safe,” Trench Coat says warmly, winking.

“Bang!” the girl says, pretending to shoot him. They laugh it off and the man leaves, leading his new battalion down the road.

I sigh, pacing the tracks restlessly as the others fight their way through troops. The people who escaped scatter about this section, talking hopelessly with each other. Several more take off their robes, freed from the Purge’s grasp on them. Tired of their weight, I follow suit, tugging on my bunched shorts and stretching my arms over my head. If I’m to die here I might as well die free from PSICOM control. I shudder; the thought makes me sick.

I come to a stop behind the boy whose mother left, watching as he leans against the railing of the bridge, clutching it so tightly that his knuckles turn white. His face is obscured by the robe’s hood, though I can tell he’s anxious. I can see the group that left from here, along with the sparks of gunfire and the people who fail to survive their wounds. From above, the forces drop a massive beast of white and glimmering green skin; I hold my breath.

It claws through the fighters as if they’re nothing but flies. Trench Coat and his two supporters fire at the behemoth until it collapses, fallen. Energized, the others push on, firing at the remaining PSICOM soldiers. The fighting stops when an enormous warship pulls out in front of them, raining down bullets that instantly kill all those without cover.

Trench Coat dives across the tracks, reaching for a gun only to miss. Instead of getting up, however, he lays there helplessly. My fists clench at my sides and suddenly I find myself standing beside the boy and gripping the railing just as he is. As the ship readies to fire on the rebel, a rocket bursts into the ship’s hull, causing a chain explosion. The mother of the boy drops her launcher and pulls Trench Coat to his feet. A sudden burst from the ship explodes into a fiery blast behind them. The smoke and the fire obstruct my view as the track collapses, dumping countless soldiers and rebels alike into the black abyss below.  _What if that's how I met my demise?_

“What’s he  _doing?”_ I hiss, leaning further out to see the man dangling over the edge and gripping the woman’s wrist as she hangs over the edge. Seconds later, she goes limp, easily slipping from his grasp; my heart catches in my throat.

“ _No!”_ screams the boy to my right, throwing out his trembling hand desperately.

With a panicked shout, Trench Coat, too, falls down, down, down. Only, he hits the ground safely. The boy’s mother is long gone and he knows it, his breaths ragged as he stumbles away from the rail. The girl who took the last gun comes up on his other side, gently taking hold of his shoulder. Another blast comes from the other side and the girl tugs on his hand.

“Come on!” The boy doesn’t budge; my grip barely loosens on the railing. With a huff, the girl grabs his shoulders to straighten him and slaps him across the face. “We  _have_ to move!”

“A-alright,” the boy stammers, letting her drag him away. The end of the bridge rattles and I run after them, never one to sit still when my life’s on the line. Then again, when has my life ever been on the line before?

As we run back to the main group, a siren wails out, echoing through the massive spaces that surround us. I turn to see the skies start to pull open, revealing themselves to be black trapdoors.

“Attention Purge deportees. Attention Purge deportees. Put down your weapons and surrender immediately. Your removal is the will of the people of Cocoon. Should you attempt to flee, the Sanctum will employ every resource necessary to bring you to justice.”  _And by that, you simply mean you’ll kill us._ An enormous structure drops down through the open hole, the exact picture of a fal-Cie I remember studying in school. My heart falls to my feet. “This land is no longer your home. Cease hostilities and surrender at once.”

The boy beside me sheds his robes and the girl follows suit, freeing her peachy orange pigtails from the hood and revealing her bright, beaded attire. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, just like her accent is something entirely new to me. She flashes a bright smile, picking up the gun Trench Coat gave to her and walking toward us.

“Here,” she says, shoving the weapon into the boy’s hands. The layers in his silver hair bounce as he shakes his head. Silently, she comes closer and wraps her thin arms around him. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” she coos, patting the back of his head. She steps away with a determined nod. “Face it later.”

“But…”

“Ciao!” she squeals, giggling as she runs away. Curious, I brush past the boy, shrugging when he frowns at me, and follow her. I can hear the thump of his shoes when he decides to do the same moments later.

“Hey! Wait!”


End file.
